Chapter 10 Christmas War #2
“Yeah, maybe that was it.” I nod solemnly. Eyes closed, lips puckered. Classic neck stretch. From the corner of my eye, I sense the heavy weight of the entire diner on us as they enjoy their lunch, including a couple of the Gigis. Great. By dinner, I’ll be pregnant with Logan’s love child.
“Are you sure I tried to kiss you?” he asks.
I cross my arms over my chest. “Are you sure you want to pretend you don’t remember?”
“No!” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “I just can’t imagine I’d… do that with you.”
“Because I’m unkissable?” I arch a brow. This man doesn’t need a shovel. He’s doing a pretty good job of digging his own grave.
“I mean—someone probably wants to kiss you.” His shoulders drop. “Maybe I thought you were someone else. It was dark.”
“Right.” I roll my eyes. “That must be it. I mean, I would have punched you in the face if you had done it anyway, so it’s probably better you didn’t. Otherwise, you’d be sporting a black eye today.”
He nods. “Great. We can pretend it never happened. Nothing really happened anyway.”
What an asshole. He totally remembers the almost-kiss. He wouldn’t have rambled on for so long about nothing happening. I thought maybe Logan was a different person, more grown up, but I was wrong. So fucking wrong.
Ever so conveniently, his phone rings. He glances at the screen. “Sorry, I need to take this—construction worker for the carnival. It’s almost set up.”
I purse my lips together and give him a tight nod.
“I’ll see you around.” He turns and presses his phone to his ear as he exits the diner.
“Hopefully not,” I mumble. His carnival. I lost sight of his carnival that’s trying to ruin my festival. Eye on the prize, Brie. Don’t let yourself get distracted by a guy. Especially one who’s as big of an asshole as Logan fucking Crawford.
Four hours later, I’m sitting on my floor, cross-legged with half a dozen open binders surrounding me, the whooshing sound of paper flipping fills the quiet room.
A sharp knock on my door slices through the silence, startling me.
Climbing to my feet, I peer out the closed curtain, and Willa’s standing on my doorstep.
I twist the knob and pull the door open.
She barrels in with a hug. “Oh good, you’re not dead.”
“Not yet, anyway.” Turning around, I take my place back on the floor.
“I tried calling you like twenty times. I never got an answer, so I thought I’d do a wellness check.”
I wave my hand over the scattered binders around me. “I’ve been drowning in town bylaws.”
Her gaze wanders over my living room floor. “Are you supposed to take those from the town hall?”
“Probably not, but I’ll return them when I’m done.”
“So what’s all this research for?” She takes a seat on the couch to my left.
I flip through pages without glancing at Willa. “His carnival can’t be legal. I’ve scoured all the town’s records, and there’s nothing that shows he pulled any permits, got any required licensing, nothing. There’s no way he can have a carnival in Mount Holly, and I’m going to prove it.”
“Good luck with that, Nancy Drew.”
“A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do to save her festival.”
“Is it bad to have a little competition?” she asks.
Mid-page flip, I pause to glare at her. She shrugs. “It’s not that I don’t want competition. I’m fine with competition. I just don’t want it to be Logan. It’s ingrained in his DNA. He sees a line and sprints through the ribbon. I’m simply sprinting too.”
Willa tilts her head. “If it were anyone else, I doubt you’d be this frothy. Instead of working against each other, don’t you think you would gain more success working together?”
“Is that what you said when Breakfast To Go tried to open right off the freeway?” I quirk an eyebrow.
“Big difference. That’s a franchise. No one wants a chain restaurant in a small town. People want local charm and ambiance, not rubbery egg patties on barely toasted, unseasoned English muffins. My food is fresh.” She shakes her head. “It’s completely different. Logan’s not franchising a carnival.”
“At this rate, anything is possible. Either way, I need to stop it before it even starts.”
“Alright, well good luck with that. I have to go meet Mason. He needs my help with paint schemes for his bedroom.”
I bite back a grin. “Or it’s just an excuse to hang out with you in his bedroom.”
“We’re not sixteen. No excuses necessary. Either way, we’re best friends. We hang out. Help each other when needed.”
I raise a questioning eyebrow. “I didn’t know best friends also spoon each other while lying down on the couch.”
Pink washes over her cheeks. “We were watching a movie. It got late. I was tired. I got cold, and his body is a natural radiator. Are you jealous? Do you want to cuddle?” She hoists her legs onto the couch, lies down, and pats the cushion in front of her.
A laugh bursts out of me. “Rain check.”
“Don’t say I never offered.” She drops her feet to the floor and sits up. “Now I regret ever mentioning it to you.”
“I’m only pointing out the obvious.” Now I feel like a jerk for not telling her about the almost-kiss.
But is it really that important? Logan wants to pretend as if nothing happened anyway, so it’s irrelevant.
I drop my gaze to the papers in front of me and continue scanning.
“Ah! Found it! Sections forty-five to forty-seven. Special events. City limits allow only one similar event at a time unless permission and a specialty permit were previously acquired. Time for him to pack up his carnival and hightail it out of Mount Holly.” My lips curve into a wide smile. “He’s done none of this.”
Willa laughs. “You’re going to have fun telling him that, aren’t you?”
“Oh, I’m making it this year’s Christmas card.” I tried to be nice for a whole five seconds. Well, you know what? That’s five seconds longer than he actually deserves. If he wants a Christmas war, he’s getting a Christmas war.